


The Accountant

by TheGoddessDivine



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: F/M, Latino Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), Protective Rick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-04 12:50:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13365078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoddessDivine/pseuds/TheGoddessDivine
Summary: Just a curious dame and a suspicious Rick at a bar.





	1. The Accountant and the Dame

“H-hey there, _bonita_ ,” a voice greeted you at the bar. You looked up see another Rick. His face was pulled up in a smile, and it was shockingly sincere. The citadel was obviously full of them, like a roach infested apartment.

“Fuck off, I’m not interested at another Rick pawing at me,” you didn’t look at him as you knocked back your drink. The bartender Rick raised his eyebrow in inquiry, and you nodded. He took your glass and gave you another one.

“E-easy there, _carino_ , I was just being friendly.” You turned in your spot to look at him squarely. He sat only a seat away from you, arm propped on the table as he swirled his drink. He was wearing an expensive suit with his tie loosened some. His hair was combed back and styled nicely. His shoes were a dark leather and matched shockingly well with the rest of his attire. The cuff links on his wrists were gold.

“So, what Rick are you?” you asked crossing your arms and tilting your head.

“I-I’m an accountant at the -uurp- portal fluid firm downtown. Rick E-4233.” He turned to smile at you again.

“Let me guess. You prowl the bars trying to find hookers to murder in your upscale apartment?” he laughed sincerely at your remark, choking a little on his drink. He shook his head and turned to face you.

“Not really m-my style. Blood makes me woozy,” he turned to the bartender Rick. “Her next one is on me,” you began to open your mouth in protest but chose differently.

“Okay so no murder, hmm, you like it when women shit or piss on you then?” you inquired, trying to figure out his angle. His smile faded as he made a disgusted face.

“T-that’s fucking disgusting,” he looked mortified and a little queasy. It was your turn to chuckle.

“You wouldn’t believe what some of the Rick’s I’ve met have prompted me with,” he clearly did not doubt you on that.

“A-any other guesses?” he leaned a little closer to you and arched his eyebrow. You grabbed your drink and moved to the empty seat next to him.

“Let’s see,” you propped your chin on your hand and stared at his face. He blushed a little under your gaze, which was not something you had seen a Rick do before. His eyes were dark, and he had a small scar under his left eye. It was barely a white line and unnoticeable until you were as close as you were. He smelt, _inviting_. A mix of soap and expensive cologne. His skin was soft and smooth, he took care of himself. Possibly due to pacing the amount of alcohol he consumed. You noticed he was still on his first drink. There were fine lines around his eyes and mouth that crinkled when he smiled. A Rick with smile lines?

“Oh goodness,” you realized his angle. A rare Rick for sure, but with infinite dimensions and possibilities you were bound to meet at least one. “You’re looking for love.” It was a statement instead of a question. He blushed a little deeper and shifted in his seat.

“I-I wouldn’t exactly say that,” his eyes darted to his drink as he brought it to his lips. It was your turn to smile.

“No need to be embarrassed, Rick. I know love isn’t really a Rick thing. But that makes you one in a billion.” You cocked your head and rested your hand on his knee. He looked down at it and then back at you.

“W-well, actually, the odds would be more than that if-if you crunched the numbers and,” he was stammering nervously and rambling about odds and numbers that you didn’t care about. But it was endearing. Still, you were suspicious he didn’t want to murder or shit on you. What were the odds that you met a “genuine” Rick (as you called them)? Not very high as he crunched the numbers for you.

He must have realized the look on your face because he stopped for a moment.

“I-I’m boring you, aren’t I?” he chuckled at himself and shook his head. “Clearly I don’t meet women very often.”

“No, I like it. It’s better than telling me the obscene things you want to do to me,” you glanced up as the bartender Rick refilled your drink.

“You’re-you’re not a, I mean not that you look it, I just don’t know, you’re much too beautiful,” he was stammering and blushing again. You gave an actual hearty laugh that revealed the little snort that came at the end of it. Rick must have liked it because he laughed too.

“No, no, I’m not a prostitute. Just another heartbroken dame at a bar. I work for the Citadel Morning News. I’m a reporter for them,” he looked impressed at your revelation.

“I didn’t know they h-hired non-Rick’s,” he said, thanking the bartender Rick who had refilled his drink as well. You were a little taken aback by the manners from him, as was the bartender Rick who rolled his eyes in disgust.

“They don’t normally, but I tend to get some good stories for them. Although I stick out a bit more, Rick’s are much more willing to speak to me than they would be to another Rick. And the Morty’s, sweet things, they aren’t afraid of me.” You crossed your legs and leaned into the conversation. You couldn’t believe you were _enjoying_ talking to a Rick.

“Did you co-cover the election?” he asked.

“Who do you think found out about juggling Rick’s little…obsession?” you smirked. His eyes opened wide as he remembered juggling Rick’s scandal that came out after the election.  

“My deepest -uurp- condolences. That must be quite the s-story,” he shuddered before pausing. “M-maybe I can hear it over dinner sometime?” he carefully inquired. You looked at him and thought for a long moment. He seemed so kind, very unlike the normal batch of Ricks you dealt with. Maybe changing it up a bit would be fun; the sex would still be amazing, you knew.

“Sure, that sounds lovely,” you opened your purse and dug out your business card. You wrote your number on the back and slid it across the bar top to him. “Call me?” you leaned over and pecked him on the cheek, appreciating the warmth of it as he blushed again.

“Y-yes, of course. I look f-forward to it,” he stammered a little more than normal and watched as you gathered your purse and coat.

“Thanks for the drink, _guapo_ ,” you smiled softly and walked to the door. Perhaps tonight hadn’t been a complete waste at all.


	2. Wine and Phone Calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to some wonderful feedback I have gotten on here and on tumblr, I have decided to turn this into a multi-chapter piece! This sweet Rick won't seem to leave my brain alone so I figured I would share him with you all :) Enjoy!  
> And as always, leave me some feedback...I thrive off of it <3

The Citadel was never really quiet. There was always something happening, some party or parade, a protest or demonstration, it drove you insane. You missed the peace of quiet of your earth. The country side with lazy cows and friendly ducks. The pond next to your house always had ducklings during the spring. You smiled at the memory.

But that was lifetimes ago it seemed.

You let yourself into your apartment, tossing the keys on the counter. You set your coat and purse onto the couch and went to your bed, plopping yourself down in a huff. Accountant Rick’s smile kept replaying in your mind and your stomach fluttered.

Was it worth going out to dinner with him? You couldn’t help but wonder whether you made a mistake in accepting his invite. But the way he looked and listened to you made you so eager to him again. Your phone buzzed from the other room. You knew it would be work and contemplated pretending you didn’t hear it.

Logical reasoning won.

You got up and walked to where you had tossed your purse. After digging around you finally found your phone. It was a text from Executive Rick, the head of the Citadel news network.

**Make sure you send me that report before you even think about going into bed. I know where you live.**

You should have just ignored your phone. Now you had to finish the story. Sighing, you changed into your pajamas and grabbed your laptop before pouring a large glass of wine. Settling down on your couch you clacked away at the story you had been working on for the past week. There were odd disappearances happening around the Citadel. Obscure objects had been taken without cause. You were almost positive it was junk-yard Rick. His crazy ass was always trying to collect things. If he didn’t find them in the dump, he would just take them from unsuspecting Ricks downtown.

The shrill ring of your phone startled you, causing you to slosh some wine down your shirt.

“Fuck!” you hopped up and answered without checking to see who it was, running to your kitchen to grab a towel.

“Hello?” you snapped.

“Uh-sorry, hey. This is Rick,” a nervous voice on the other end said.

“Yeah, no shit, which Rick? There are a million of you,” you wet a towel under a stream of water and rubbed the stain on your shirt agitatedly.

“R-right, sorry, stupid of me, it’s Rick E-4233,” you could practically hear him blushing through the phone.

“ _Oh_ ,” you smiled, “I’m so sorry for sounding rude. I spilt wine down my front and wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon,” you switched the phone the other ear, feeling guilty for having snapped at him.

“No, no! It’s okay, I-I should have probably waited a little bit to call. Too e-eager sounding-“ there was a pause. “Ar-are you free tomorrow night? For dinner?” the words tumbled quickly out of his mouth before he could help himself. You chuckled softly.

“My, my, I have never met such an eager Rick before,” you bit your lip and leaned against the counter. He laughed at himself sheepishly. You pictured him pacing around his place, rubbing his hand on the back on his neck while trying to calculate the right thing to say.

“W-well, what do you say?” you secretly enjoyed keeping him in suspense, rarely ever feeling like you had the upper hand with Ricks. But you decided to be merciful and put him out of his misery.

“Tomorrow night works perfect. I should be free around six, how does that sound?”

“Gr-great! Uh, six should be good. C-can I pick you up?” you hesitated at this. Letting him know where you lived went against your third rule of living in the Citadel. Then again, your finally attuned Rick-radar hadn’t gone off yet. You decided to compromise.

“You can pick me up from the news station if you would like, do you know where it is?”

“I-I do, it’s right down fr-from my office actually.” You could hear him planning already in his head, his tone gave it away.

“Well then, Rick,” you purred his name, hearing him intake a sharp breath on the other side, “I look forward to seeing you. Anything special I should wear? Any favorite color undergarment?” you heard an audible gulp and suddenly wondered if he was a virgin. Your brows furrowed at that. Could a Rick even _be_ a virgin?

“Uh, well, a dress is fine if-if you have one. And, um, we-wear whatever makes you most comfortable, uh, underneath,” he stammered. It was adorable and had you grinning from ear to ear.  

“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. I’ll be thinking about you tonight,” you leaned against the center island in the kitchen, enjoying the confidence that swelled in your chest. But the softness and genuine answer from him took you off guard.

“I will be too, _bonita_.” You didn’t know what to say for a moment, a blush creeping to your cheeks. It was intimate in a different way, how he whispered such a word to you.

“Goodnight,” you finally said, breathing in deeply.

“ _Dulces sueños_ ,” the phone call ended. _Goddamn_. You stood up and walked back to your laptop, wondering how the hell you were supposed to finish your story now. Another glass of wine helped push you through as you finally sent it in an email with a swoosh an hour later. You brushed your teeth and climbed into bed, snuggling deep into your plush sheets. You imagined a certain Rick singing you soft Spanish lullabies until sleep finally took you.


	3. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so happy that all of you are enjoying this as much as I am! Accountant Rick is an absolute joy to write.  
> Feel free to follow me over on tumblr (@ricksugarbaby), I have an artist on commission who will have a picture of my new Rick for us all to enjoy by the end of the week! Smooches <3  
> 

By lunch time the next day, you were ready to murder any Rick that was unfortunate enough to cross your path. Executive Rick did _not_ enjoy the piece you sent him. His choice words were “stale shit” and “cum stained garbage.” You had fought the urge to shove him from the balcony of his office. He sent you away to work on it again. Rick D716 saw you storming down the hallway as you both entered the break room.

“Bad day?” he chuckled, unscrewing the top of his flask.

“You have no fucking idea,” you huffed, pouring yourself a cup of coffee. You sat at the small table with him and flipped through yesterday’s paper. Rick D716 was the nicest of the variations of his dimension. He rarely hit on you and always offered constructive criticism on your work. But just like any Rick, his alcoholism was apparent.

“So, what -uurp- are you doing l-later?” he inquired. It was Friday which usually meant getting some takeout and watching Ball Fondlers. Your change of plans made you smile.

“I have a date tonight actually,” you nearly split your coffee all over the table as Rick smacked into the ledge, almost falling out of his chair.

“W-w-what? You? On a date? I th-thought you had a strict ‘no Rick’ policy,” he couldn’t hide the slight disappointment on his face.

“Correction. I have a ‘no Rick that I work with’ policy,” Rick D716-B then walked in the room and headed straight for the fridge, “and besides, this Rick didn’t try to take a palmful of my ass when I met him,” you narrowed your eyes at D716-B.

“W-what are you bitchin’ about?” he asked lazily, digging through the back of the fridge.

“Sh-she’s got a date tonight,” D716 said in a mocking tone. You pursed your lips at him.

“No-no shit? Which poor Rick is-is it?” he burped loudly and settled for the contents of the flask as his meal, sitting on the other side of the table.

“Rick E-4233,” you said nonchalantly. You noticed them exchange glances with one another. You arched your eyebrow at this. Although some Rick’s knew of others, they certainly didn’t know of _all_ Ricks.

“What?” you asked, heart suddenly thumping in your chest.

“T-the accountant? That’s wh-what gets your pussy wet? _Jeeesus_ ,” Rick D716-B leaned back in his chair and groaned.

“What’s wrong with him?” You asked, feigning boredom and flipping through another page of the paper.

“H-he is just so, I dunno, _square_ ,” Rick D716 drawled out the word. “Always -uurp- following rules. Being nice an-and shit. Creeps me out,” he shuddered.

“That’s not always a bad thing you know,” you crossed your arms.

“A-already so defensive. To th-think I wanted to cum on that pretty -uurp- little mouth,” D716-B shook his head.

“And you wonder why I never let _you_ take me out to dinner,” you stood up and tucked the paper under your arm before pouring the rest of your coffee down the sink.

“Ask-ask him how many M-morty’s it takes to screw in a light bulb, will ya?” D716-B yelled after you, earning him a smack from D716.

You quickly changed into the extra clothes you brought with you as the clock in your office clicked closer to six. There was no way in hell you would have worn a dress all day around the station. You learned that lesson the hard way.

You shimmied your way into the tight, but modest dark red dress you had brought. It had a cinched waist that accentuated your curves and a high neckline that scooped into a dangerously low back. You switched into black heels and swapped out your stud earrings for thin, dangling gold droplets. Your phone buzzed as you put on your lipstick. It was from his number that you saved last night after he called you. Keeping various Ricks in your phone was a pain. Their dimension numbers didn’t help as much as one might think. You used various nicknames or professions to keep them organized. You settled on ‘The Accountant’ for him.

**I’m pulling up front, black flying car.**

Your heart leapt as you rushed to grab your things. The hallways were thankfully empty as your loud heels clacked and echoed along the walls. The synthetic sun was starting to set as you opened the front door of the station. You looked around briefly for a black flying car, your jaw nearly hitting the floor when your eyes settled on it. Rick was leaning against perhaps one of the most expensive cars in the Citadel. It was sleek and shiny, the other Ricks walking by eyed it enviously. You walked past a Morty that nearly tripped when he saw you, and headed towards the car.

Rick looked handsome leaning up against the smooth, black machine. His hair was neatly slicked back without a single strand out of place. His dark, navy suit looked smooth to the touch, the same gold cufflinks from the night before barely visible with his hands in his pockets. It was well tailored, stretching perfectly to match his lanky frame without being too tight or too loose. Your mouth watered just at the sight.

When he finally turned and saw you sauntering towards him, a dark blush crept up his neck.

“ _Por Dios_ ,” he whispered, his eyes tracing every curve of your body. You smiled like a giddy school girl and pushed your hair behind your ear. You continued your strut over to him and pecked him lightly on the cheek.

“Good day?” you inquired, ignoring a few Ricks grumbling as they walked by.

“Y-yes, ex-excellent!” he stammered, moving out of the way to open the passenger door for you. “Went by r-rather slow,” he chuckled. You slid into the smooth leather of the seat and couldn’t help but gasp at the interior. Everything was sleek and well designed, every curve and angle seeming almost artistic rather than mechanic. Rick got in next to you and kindly asked you to put on your seatbelt. You laughed and complied. He zoomed the two of you off, climbing high into the sky as the Citadel shrunk below you. You peered out the window in amazement. As the artificial sunlight signaled the switch to nighttime, the city came to life. Twinkling lights and a shimmering cityscape welcomed you as the car crossed through town.

You noticed you were heading to the upscale district of the Citadel. It was then that you realized you had never asked where you were going.

“So what magnificent evening have you planned for me,” you teased, turning your head to look at him.

“I-it’s actually a surprise, if that’s okay,” he looked at you and grinned. You nodded, butterflies swirling in your stomach. “You look incredible,” he suddenly said softly, still devouring the sight of you. You were sure you looked quite the sight of personified dark, seductive red sprawled in the black leather of the seat. You reached out and took his free hand, interlocking your fingers with his.

“So do yo-“ he suddenly ripped his hand from yours and yanked the steering wheel left, narrowly missing the side of a building. You yelped in surprise, head nearly slamming into the window.

“F-fuck! Sorry, uh- about that, you’re very distracting,” he teased, breathing just as heavy as you were from the spike of adrenaline. You busted out laughing, in which he joined. The little snort that came at the end of your laugh escaped before you could stop it. You quickly tried to disguise it as a cough. He raised his eyebrow at you.

“I love your laugh, don’t do that,” he said, reaching back out to take your hand. You felt yourself blush and kicked yourself mentally. You were both acting like sappy romance characters in a bad novel. You half expected _La Vie en rose_ to start playing in the background as cherub Morty’s flew around overhead.

Thankfully, you finally arrived at a very impressive looking building. Rick pulled the car down to the ground at the front of what you presumed to be the restaurant. The valet Morty rushed out towards the two of you. He opened your door at grinned at you while Rick stepped out on the other side, his lanky limbs unfolding. You thanked the Morty and took Rick’s arm as he walked around the car and offered it to you.

The restaurant was absolutely beautiful. It was a large building with huge windows and terrace on top. Lush, green vines wrapped themselves along the curves of the architecture while candlelight reflected off the mirrors and windows of the interior, giving it the appearance that it was much larger than it really was. You noticed several prominent Ricks laughing and eating as the waiter ushered you two to your reserved table. You could have even sworn you saw the new President Morty through a crack in the door as you passed the private dining room.

Your table was nestled in the back, away from the loud belching of various Business Ricks enjoying themselves. Your Rick pulled your chair out for you before seating himself, making sure to order a bottle of Chardonnay before the waiter left. You flipped your hair to one side of your neck and wrapped your fingers in it, styling it while you leaned in to whisper to Rick.

“You know, I must admit, I am _very_ impressed,” you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

“I-I don’t half-ass things, you’ll come to find,” he chuckled, leaning against the table to take your hand again. He tucked his long, cool fingers under yours, his thumb staying on top to trace each one of your knuckles. Every movement of his thumb shot warmth straight to your core. His dark eyes bore into yours, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“So,” he began, “tell me about yourself.”


End file.
